Page 117 of Royally Drawn

“I have no idea what any of that means,” Keir said. “But I am assuming that is not good?”

“It’s a no-go,” she winced.

“You can just fly back,” I said.

“No, Ingrid. I legally cannot. I just flew for twelve hours between flight and prep. The clock is up. I’m done. Legally, I’d risk my licence—not to mention my life.”

Fuck. I’d put him in this pickle. He hadn’t orchestrated being stranded in Kentucky during its busiest two weeks of the year. He’d done this for me—out of love. I may not have wanted to jump back into bed with him, but I didn’t want to leave him sleeping on a bench in the cold, either.

“Can I get another room key?” I asked the desk attendant.

“Sure,” she agreed. “You’re 544?”

I nodded.

She clicked the keys and slid me a second room key. “Here you are, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” I said, handing the car to Keir.

I turned, expecting he would follow me. Instead, he didn’t.

“Are you daft?” I asked. “It’s a key to my room. If you want to sleep somewhere, you have to follow me. We’re still stuck together, Keir.”

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“You just saved my ass, so no,” I said. “Come on!”

He trotted after me. We climbed on the lift together.

“I will be on my best behaviour,” Keir promised. “I am too knackered to do anything anyhow.”

“Is flying really that exhausting?”

“Over the Atlantic? It’s so boring,” Keir said. “But you get body sore. It’s a real thing.”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you apologising? I’d do it a dozen more times if you’d talk to me like I existed, Ingrid.”

I was wounded, fighting tears. I could have written it off as him just trying to get into my pants again. I could have said he was just being selfish, but any selfish man wouldn’t take up his holiday time chasing a princess across an ocean to a horse show. That wasn’t a thing. It was like he said—he loved me.

The room was a welcome relief. I changed and tucked into bed. Keir tried to throw himself onto the sofa in the corner. It was ridiculous.

“You can sleep in the bed,” I said. “Just mind yourself. You’ll be miserable over there.”

“I’m good.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Ingrid, if I go over there, I’m just going to be honest with you… you’re will weasel your way into my arms overnight through some annoying magic.”

“You think so?” I asked.

“And I’m going to be hard as a rock—again, whether I want to be or not—and freak you out. Because even if I am exhausted, I cannot quit you, Ingrid.”

Fuck. Now, I couldn’t stop thinking about his cock. I was exhausted, emotionally fried, and frightened about competing. Still, I wanted him inside me.

“So, I’m gonna suffer on this couch. It beats sleeping rough out there or in many places I had to sleep in the past eight months.”

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